


Prime Suspect

by theundeadsiren (rhoen)



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, M/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/theundeadsiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DS Walker and DC Dyer investigate the murder of a United fan, and quickly find themselves knocking on the door of Rick Macy - a young man who fits the bill almost perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help myself, I'm sorry D:
> 
> Yeah, I know it makes sense for Rick to be the copper and for Kieren to be some artsy victim of crime or whatever, but I've just kinda done... this... whatever you might call it. I've wanted to try doing a murder mystery thing for a while, but never had the inspiration. Well, I've had the inspiration, and this is the result. Let me tell you, planning these damn things is HARD.
> 
> I have taken a few liberties with policing procedure. Sorry if it's glaringly obvious and super annoying to anyone who knows their stuff better than I do.

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Thank you for respecting my wishes.

* * *

 

It was a grey Monday morning, the heavy clouds blocking out the barely risen sun as Kieren pulled up a little way from the canal and took in the vehicles already on scene. It felt like the whole city was nursing a hangover from the Manchester derby yesterday, and somehow he’d known his Monday morning wasn’t going to get off to the best of starts. Despite not being too far from the city centre, the area he’d been called to was all but derelict, and the lanes between the old industrial red-bricked buildings were narrow and unfriendly. It was the kind of place that gave off an unwelcoming vibe even during the day. There were a few patrol cars parked up, and a handful of officers stood around, a cordon already in place to keep people back – not that there were any at this hour, and at this part of the city.

Kieren turned to his partner, sighing. “Let’s do this,” he said with more determination than he felt. He saw the wry grin Amy gave him in return, and took in the Monday morning tiredness he knew they both felt – they’d not had time to stop for coffee before the call came in, and he’d picked her up at her house.

“Don’t you just love Mondays?” she asked sarcastically, tucking a stray strand of rich brown hair behind her ear as she reached for the door handle.

“Love them,” Kieren muttered, leaving the vehicle as well. The door shut crisply, and he pocketed the key as he locked the car, already reaching for his ID. Approaching the cordon, he flashed it, ducking under the tape as it was lifted for him. Amy was just a few steps behind as they walked round the cover and toward the canal itself, where the crime scene workers were already cataloguing the scene. The body, which had been pulled from the water, lay in a puddle next to the canal.

Kieren sighed softly to himself as he walked up to it, taking in the size of the relatively tall man who was perhaps in his late twenties, and well-built. He was wearing casual clothing, his jeans dark with water and his fake leather jacket zipped up – no doubt against the cold weather that had set in over the last week. The most striking thing about him, however, was the injuries to his face. It was clear he’d been in a fight, and as Kieren crouched carefully beside him, he tried to get a measure for who might have caused the injuries, and why. The victim had probably been quite attractive before his stint in the canal, but the deathly pallid skin and the vacant stare were nothing short of eerie. The way his dark hair was plastered to his scalp gave away a receding hairline, and as Kieren cast his eye over the rest of the body, he noticed slight grazing on the victim’s knuckles – it seemed he’d gotten a few hits in too.

“Doesn’t look like a mugging,” Amy commented from somewhere over him. One of the forensic team had handed her something, and Kieren heard the familiar rustle of an evidence bag. “George Castle, of 16A Bosworth Road, born on the 3rd of February, nineteen-eighty-six.”

“Is there a phone?” Kieren asked, yet looking up. He frowned, catching a glimpse of distinctive red beneath the collar of the victim’s jacket, and pulled out a pair of latex gloves so he could shift the clothing a fraction.

“No, not yet,” Amy confirmed. “Probably fell out his pocked in the canal.”

“Mm, probably,” Kieren agreed absentmindedly, tearing his eyes away from the victim’s clothing and down over his body for any other clues that might have survived. “Time of death?”

“Late last night, early hours of this morning,” a clear male voice answered. Kieren barely nodded, not hearing anything he hadn’t already guessed. After another few seconds he straightened, standing slowly, his eyes staying on the victim as he pulled his gloves off.

“I think we need to check any reports that came in last night of clashes between City and United fans,” he announced.

“Football related?” Amy asked.

“He’s wearing United’s colours. Could be, but his jacket was zipped up, so unless someone followed him, or knew him as a United supporter and lay in wait…”

It was clearly far too early on a Monday morning for Amy to even try to hold back a groan of frustration in the presence of her superior officer. Kieren didn’t say anything. He wasn’t exactly overjoyed at the prospect of team rivalry, but that sort of thing was inevitable in cities like Manchester. And he could be wrong.

“On the bright side, we might be done by lunch,” he shrugged, not entirely convinced by his own words. He turned to the forensic investigator still lingering. “Thanks, James.”

The young man nodded, blushing a little and fumbling slightly as Amy handed the evidence bag back to him.

“Shall we take a walk, see where he might have gone in?” Amy suggested as they turned away. Kieren glanced at the edge of the canal and the murky, stagnant water.

“Yeah, can’t be far. Maybe uniform have found something already.”

“And then coffee?”

“Family first, coffee after, then we’ll do the rounds.” Kieren said firmly.

“I hate notifying the family,” Amy muttered.

“I know,” Kieren said sympathetically. “I do too. It’s the one part of this job that never seems to get easier. Anyway, Monday morning – I’m buying.”

“Did I ever mention how much I love you?”

Kieren gave a small smile, despite the circumstances. “Frequently. Come on. Let’s go solve us a murder.”

-

The garage George Castle had worked at was perhaps a mile from the murder scene, and on a relatively thriving industrial unit close to a housing estate. Kieren parked outside the allotment and glanced up at the high perimeter fence, which was topped with spikes. They weren’t exactly in one of the most desirable parts of Manchester. Still, the garage itself had been here for a while, if the slightly aging sign proclaiming ‘Burton Motors’ was anything to go by. Amy, now in better spirits now she’d had some coffee, was tucking her hair back again – a sign she was focusing on what they were about to do.

“Let the hunger games begin,” she said with a slight smile. Kieren just gave her a sideways glance, not sure what to make of her comment.

Their approach to Burton Motors wasn’t noticed until they were at the open door to the garage itself. It was a little after ten, and the three mechanics they could see were engrossed in their work. A radio was blaring somewhere from the back of the workshop, the sound lost for a moment as a pneumatic tool kicked in and out of life. The mechanic closest to them looked up, his sharp eyes casting over the two detectives and his expression hardening. Kieren noted the reaction, and looked away. Through a glass partition, he could see an older man who was clearly in a bad mood. He was angrily sifting through papers at a messy desk, seemingly muttering to himself as he did so. Unlike the others, he wasn’t wearing overalls over his larger frame, and his hair was greying.

Amy was in sync, and already the two of them were making their way over to the office door, which bore the plaque ‘RECEPTION’. Kieren knocked firmly, half expecting the sound to be lost to the noise of tools. It wasn’t, and the man looked up.

“Sorry to bother you,” Kieren started, “We’re looking for the owner?”

“Yes?”

“Mr Burton?” Kieren clarified.

“Yes. What is it?”

The man was clearly wary, his gaze shifting between Kieren and Amy several times as he stood up straight on the other side of the desk and took in their clothing, no doubt tried to get a measure of them and guess what they were there for.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Walker, and this is Detective Constable Dyer.” The two of them neatly produced their credentials, giving the Mr Burton a moment to see them. The redness in his face drained completely, leaving him pallid and open-mouthed. “We’re here regarding one of your employees.”

“Oh god.”

It was Amy’s turn to step in, and she gestured at the seats set out on their side of the desk. “May we?”

“Of course,” Mr Burton replied automatically, sitting heavily himself. He seemed to know why they were there. Kieren had seen that look of understanding before. “Of course…”

Kieren kept quiet for a moment, allowing Mr Burton to gather his thoughts, before he started again.

“We’re sorry to be the bearers of bad news, Mr Burton, but George Castle’s body was found earlier this morning. We hoped you might be able to help us with our investigation into his death.”

It took another few seconds for the information to filter in, and for a moment Mr Burton stared dumbly at the paperwork on his desk.

“Was he… ya know…?”

“It’s too early to say conclusively,” Amy said gently, “but yes, we are treating this as a murder investigation.”

Mr Burton was shaking his head, his hands coming up to press at his temples. It took several long seconds before he seemed able to listen to anything more.

“We were hoping you’d be able to assist us,” Amy continued. “Tell us a little bit about him, about what he was like, how he worked, how he got on with everyone – that sort of thing.”

“I… I don’t know where to begin.”

“It’s okay, take your time, Mr Burton,” Kieren encouraged.

“Ken,” Mr Burton cut in. “Please, call me Ken.”

“Of course, Ken,” Kieren said gently, glad that the man was relaxing enough to offer his first name. The initial shock was slowly wearing off, and a more business-like tone creeping into Ken’s voice. He’d probably be helpful. Kieren pulled out his notepad, flipping to a clean page. “So, Ken, how long had George been working for you?”

-

Ken Burton had been incredibly helpful once he’d relaxed into the conversation. He’d been forthcoming with information, and more than happy for Kieren and Amy to interview the rest of the employees – or at least the ones who had turned up for work that day. Two were absent, resulting in the foul mood Ken had exhibited when Kieren and Amy first arrived, and it was those two that they were interested in questioning. Being absent from work the morning after a work colleague – and, in the case of the receptionist Vicky, boyfriend – had been murdered wasn’t a good sign.

The three men they’d talked to after Ken were just as shocked when they heard the news, and none had set off any immediate alarm bells. Their stories were fairly standard – they’d all gone to the football game yesterday, had a few drinks afterwards, and then gone home at roughly the same time, although with different people. Their stories would have to be corroborated and revisited when a more certain time of death was established by the pathologist, but in the meantime the only potentially useful thing they’d found was that Gary and Dean were United supporters, whereas Freddie was a City supporter. Ken himself followed Liverpool.

As the fourth mechanic who worked at Burton Motors lived closer than the receptionist, Kieren and Amy decided to pay him a visit first. The block of flats seemed passable enough, although as they walked up the stairs there was a distinct smell of urine. Despite being used to such things, Amy still pulled a face.

“Does every block have a drunk who pisses in the stairwell by mandate?” she griped.

“Ask the City council,” Kieren snorted. “Come on, this is us.”

The door to flat 305 was made of heavy wood, and echoed loudly in the hallway when Kieren knocked brusquely on it. He’d tried the doorbell, but had heard nothing. After waiting a full minute, no one answered. He knocked again, harder this time. Kieren was about to knock a third time and call out his identity, when he heard something from behind the door, and the sound of the lock being undone. A second later, the door opened a sliver, and a pale face peered out, red marks and bruising on his face setting off alarm bells. He’d clearly been in a fight recently. Instantly, Kieren’s plan changed.

“Can I help you?” a rough voice asked. The guy sounded – and smelled – hungover. Even through the small crack in the door, Kieren caught a whiff of stale alcohol.

“Rick Macy?” he questioned.

“Who wants to know?” the guy asked tetchily. Kieren showed his badge.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Walker. This is Detective Constable Dyer. We’re investigating the death of one of your co-workers and would like you to come down to the station for questioning.”

Despite what Kieren had revealed, the guy barely flinched. For a moment Kieren could see a flicker of fear and alarm in the guy’s half-hidden expression, and then it was gone, replaced by a blank look. It left another black mark against his name.

“Now’s a bad time,” the guy muttered.

“Mr Macy?” Amy cut in. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice.”

The guy considered for a moment, then seemed to concede defeat.

“Fine. Wait.”

The door snapped closed as the guy disappeared into the house. Amy raised an eyebrow at Kieren.

“Looks like you were right. We might be done by lunch.”

Kieren allowed himself a small smile.

“Let’s hope so.”


	2. ii. Initial Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much dialogue! How did I do it!???
> 
> Emetophobia warning for the end of the chapter (after they've left the interview room). There's very vague detail, but just to let you know that it's there so it's not an unpleasant surprise.

When Rick emerged from his flat, he’d redressed himself in worn jeans and a plain navy tshirt that was mostly hidden by a thin black hoodie. The guy clearly didn’t want to talk, and kept sipping a bottle of water he’d brought with him. On the way to the station, Kieren kept glancing in the rear view mirror at the guy, trying to read him, but the guy was completely closed off, and stared fixedly out the window the entire journey. He looked sick, although Kieren was glad that he wasn’t, and the station he was allowed to use the bathroom and refill his water bottle before the interview started.

In the brief period they were alone, Amy turned to Kieren.

“Seems like our guy.”

“Yeah,” Kieren agreed, gathering the paperwork for the interview. “Unless Matt and Erin turn up a more useful lead with the girlfriend.”

Amy gave a noncommittal hum, checking the items cradled in her arm. “Want to try that new burrito place for lunch?”

“Yeah, if we’re done here, sure. Do they do take-away?”

“I think so. Lisa said something about it…”

“We should probably go pay her a visit.”

Amy gave an exaggerated shiver. “Maybe when she joins the living.”

Kieren gave a short laugh, wondering when Amy was going to drop the act. Nobody _liked_ being around dead bodies, but the few times Amy forgot to be creeped out in the morgue, she’d shown an interest in the pathologist’s work. Then again, the trainee pathologist – Lisa – did what she could to creep Amy out. The two had a friendship going that Kieren couldn’t quite understand. It seemed to revolve around gross and freaky stories, and Lisa invariably won. Once, Amy had refused to go near the mortuary for just over a month, and Kieren wasn’t sure he wanted to know the story behind it.

From the end of the corridor, Rick emerged from the toilets, walking towards where Kieren and Amy waited outside one of the interview rooms. He didn’t greet them, and avoided eye contact, keeping his gaze to the floor.

“We’re in here,” Amy said as she opened the door, letting Rick and then Kieren precede her into the sparse room. Rick took one of the two chairs with their back to the door, and Kieren and Amy settled on the other side of the table facing him. It took a moment for Amy to sort out the recording device and to make sure she had all the paperwork, and then they were ready to begin.

“This interview is taking place at the Greater Manchester Police headquarters on the 26th of October 2015. The time is 11:42. Conducting the interview is DS Kieren Walker, and in the room with me are DC Dyer and Rick Macy. Please introduce yourselves so you may be identified on the recording.”

“Detective Constable Amy Dyer, 2108.”

There was a pause, in which Rick glanced at them both, then at the machine, before finally speaking. “Rick Macy.”

“Now, Rick,” Kieren continued, his hand reaching over and resting on the papers Amy had brought in. “At the end of this recording, we will give you information about what happens to this recorded interview, but before we continue, I must caution you. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you have any questions?”

Rick shook his head.

“Could you please answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ for the record?”

“No.”

“Thank you. You are not under arrest, and are free to leave if you want to do so. You also have the right to legal advice, should you wish it.”

“I don’t.”

Rick was scowling, although it seemed difficult for him to maintain the expression. Half a second later, he was sipping water again.

“And before we get started, could you please state your full name, address, date of birth and National Insurance Number for the record?”

“Richard William Macy, 305 Stirling Court, Manchester. Eight, ten, eighty-eight. X, X, 1, 2, 5, 6, 8, 9, X.”

“Thank you.” Kieren said, briefly pausing to pull the cap off his pen. “You’re being questioned in relation to the murder of George Castle, whose body was found this morning in the canal by Broad Street. Firstly, what was your relationship with the victim?”

“We both worked at Ken’s place. We both support United.”

“So you were friends?”

Rick gave a small shrug as he replied. “Yeah.”

“Close friends?”

“Just friends.”

“And how long had you known each other?”

Rick took a moment to think, fiddling with the cap on his bottle as he did. “Four years, ever since I started working at Ken’s.”

“Did you socialise much outside of work?”

“Now and then, especially if there was a game on.”

Kieren nodded, satisfied with the way Rick was answering questions, rather than clamming up. That would no doubt change with his next few questions though.

“Like yesterday?”

“Yeah.” There was a slight edge to Rick’s voice, as he clearly knew what was coming next.

“Can you tell us where you were yesterday, and in particular between the hours of nine pm and six am this morning?”

Rick sighed, leaning forwards and placing his head in his hands, obscuring his bruised face from view. Both Kieren and Amy waited patiently for Rick to say something, and several moments later, he did, his voice muffled until he picked his head up again.

“Drinking. Drinking a lot. I went to the pub after the game. I don’t know what time I went home. Definitely by two am.”

“And can anyone confirm that?”

There was the smallest of shrugs. “I dunno. My mates? People at the pub?”

“Can you name them?”

Rick hesitated again, and filled the gap by taking a sip of water. “Gaz, Dean, Mark, Ian, Dibbit, and I suppose Vicky.”

“Do you know their full names?”

“Vicky Barnes, Gary Kendal, Dean Halton, Ian Curry, Mark… Mark West? Weston? And Daryl Fullerton.”

“And which pub was this?”

“The King’s Cut, down on Oldham Way.”

Amy was jotting something down, and Kieren let the sound of her pen on paper fill the air for a few moments before he moved on to the next question.

“Can you tell us why it was that when DC Dyer and myself came to your door this morning that you didn’t question whose murder we were investigating?”

Rick fixed Kieren with a stare, hazel eyes flickering with annoyance.

“I’m not stupid.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Rick?”

“I was in a fight with him last night. Only guy I fought with. Figures that if he turned up dead you’d go looking for the one person everyone saw him exchanging blows with.”

Kieren gave a small nod, trying to hide his reaction. He hadn’t known that. Neither of the men who had been with Rick last night mentioned anything about a fight, and the investigation was only a few hours old. That kind of information hadn’t come to light yet. Or it was false. Kieren had been hoping to put off the question about Rick’s wounds, knowing it would be the elephant in the room and perhaps make Rick volunteer an excuse, or at least become worried. He hadn’t expected it to be addressed so quickly.

“Tell us about the fight, Rick. I take it that’s how you sustained the injuries to your face?”

Rick gave a humourless snort, fiddling with the cap of his bottle. “Yeah.”

Nothing more was said after that, and as they waited, Kieren gently nudged Amy under the table. She leant in, elbows on the table top, as she regarded Rick.

“Tell us about the fight, Rick,” she echoed, her voice softer but no less commanding. Amy was brilliant at getting the tone perfect – soft and compassionate enough for those needing encouragement, and abrupt and sharp enough for those reluctant to open up.

“There’s nothing to say. We fought. He went off. The end.”

“What did you fight about, Rick?” Amy asked. She didn’t offer any options that might become excuses – if Rick was lying about the fight being witnessed, he was capable of fabricating his own reasons for the altercation.

“Does it matter?”

“A man is dead. It matters.” Kieren countered. Rick’s gaze was instantly back on him, as if Rick was trying to gauge whether Kieren was trying to provoke him. But he was calm, and Rick remained equally so, and several long moments later, Rick looked away, crossing his arms.

“He was drunk. I can’t help that he was, or what he did because of it.”

It was an evasive answer, and Kieren sighed mentally, moving on to the next point.

“So where did the fight take place?”

“At the Cut.”

“The King’s Cut?”

“Yeah.”

“Around what time?”

Rick seemed to be seriously considering the question, gazing off into the distance and frowning as he worked something out.

“About nine,” he stated eventually.

“And what happened after that?”

Rick gave a small shrug, uncrossing his arms and reaching out to fiddle with the water bottle, undoing and then refastening the lid. “He stormed off, I went after him. Couldn’t find him, so tried to phone, sent a couple of texts, but my battery died. I was pissed, so I just went back to the Cut…”

Rick trailed off, his already pale, unhealthy complexion taking on an even more alarming shade of white as something clearly dawned on him.

“Wait, how did he die?”

Until that point, Rick’s failure to ask such an obvious question had led Kieren to believe Rick already knew and had simply forgotten that, if he was innocent, he shouldn’t know that detail already. The way Rick asked, eyes widening in fear and his body tensing, seemed genuine, though. If it wasn’t, Rick should be nominated for an Oscar.

Amy answered without missing a beat, leaving Kieren to watch Rick’s reaction. “We haven’t received the pathologist’s report yet, but initial findings suggest that it was due to blunt force trauma to the head.”

Rick still looked afraid, and didn’t relax at Amy’s words.

“Blunt force…” he was echoing the words, seemingly trying to process them. His gaze shifted away for a moment. “But I couldn’t have…”

Rick looked back up, directly at Kieren. He was almost taken aback by the intensity of Rick’s gaze.

“I hit him, but I didn’t hit him that hard.”

He seemed to be trying to sell himself his own words as much as he was trying to get Kieren and Amy to buy them. Kieren wasn’t about to believe anything until he had the hard facts in front of him, but right now, with a suspect who’d admitted to fighting with and hitting the victim, he felt like they were getting somewhere. If Rick was telling the truth and it wasn’t all an act, then they may still have their man, as the death, while accidental, may have been caused by injury sustained in the fight. But Kieren wouldn’t know until the pathologist’s report, so didn’t dwell any further on the possibilities. He just wanted the facts.

“Do you remember where you hit him?”

Rick looked nauseated as he slowly replied. “A few times in his ribs, perhaps once or twice around the head. It couldn’t have…?”

The question was left hanging, and Kieren didn’t put Rick out of his misery. “The report will tell us more,” he dismissed. “How did the fight start?”

Rick closed his eyes, as if trying to block out the question. Kieren thought he was going to have to prompt the guy again, when Rick finally answered. “He said some shit, and I reacted.”

“What kind of ‘shit’?”

It was subtle, but Kieren didn’t miss the way Rick’s jaw clenched. It was clearly deeply personal.

“He accused me of being weak.”

It didn’t seem like the whole truth, but was perhaps close enough, so Kieren was content to leave it be for now. He had to hope that the fight had been witnessed, and that someone could volunteer more information about what they’d seen and heard. Being called weak didn’t, in Kieren’s books, merit a physical attack, but he’d learnt that people reacted unpredictably to things – especially when inebriated.

Instead of pushing further, Kieren went over what he’d gathered so far from the interview. “So, you and George had a fight at the King’s Cut bar around nine pm, which was witnessed, after which George left and you tried to follow him. Unable to find him, you tried to call, and sent texts, until your phone died. Is that correct?”

“Yeah,” Rick replied thinly. He took another drink of water.

“And did George answer any of your calls or texts?”

“No.”

“Okay. So after trying to find George, you returned to the bar. Can anyone confirm that, and say what time you stayed until?”

“I dunno. Perhaps Dean? Ian, and Scotty? Mark wanted to go home to his missus, so left before I did. I dunno. I can’t remember.” Rick was getting agitated, and shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Can I go now?”

“You’re not being detained.” Kieren reminded him. “Anyway, I think we’re almost done here.”

He looked over at Amy, giving her a chance to chime in with any questions she felt were relevant. After a brief pause, she looked up at Rick, who couldn’t look more anxious to be elsewhere.

“Was there anyone you can think of who disliked George, or who he perhaps provoked the way he did to you?”

“No,” Rick answered abruptly, almost cutting Amy’s question off. Realising his haste, Rick took another second before he justified his answer. “He’s a decent bloke. Was. Good to work with, always helpful. Everyone liked him.”

Kieren mentally noted the hastiness with which Rick had answered Amy’s question.

“You knew a lot of the same people? Moved in the same circles?” Amy asked.

“Pretty much,” Rick agreed.

“Okay, thank you,” Amy nodded. “Just before we finish, could you please read over and fill out this form, and also this one here, giving us your full contact details.”

The papers were pushed across the table, along with a pen, and Rick leant forward to take them.

“We’d also like you to give a DNA sample, to assist with our enquiry.”

Rick stilled completely, and then slowly looked up at Amy.

“Do I have to?”

“It would be better if you did.”

Clearly reluctant, Rick nodded. “Okay. Fine.”

Once the paperwork was done and the interview concluded, Kieren stood up, tensing to try and ease the stiffness in his muscles. Amy had brought a DNA sampling kit, and Kieren had watched as Rick grudgingly opened his mouth to let her swab his cheek. Bruised and badly hung over, the guy looked like shit, and for a moment Kieren felt a flicker of sympathy for him. He wondered what kind of a guy Rick was when he wasn’t a murder suspect. Was he as abrupt and unhelpful as he’d been in the interview, or was he easy-going and relaxed?

Kieren’s contemplation of Rick’s character ended when the guy stood up, and Kieren and Amy showed him from the interview room.

“If anything else comes to mind, you can contact us directly,” Kieren said as they walked towards the main entrance, taking out a business card and handing it over. Rick took it and pocketed it without reading it. “Just ask for myself of DC Dyer.”

Rick said nothing.

“And, Rick? Stay available. We don’t want to hear you’ve skipped town.”

“Right,” Rick muttered dryly.

They paused near the reception area, and Kieren turned to Rick. “Thank you for your time, Mr Macy.”

It was a nicety Kieren tried to always give, but it was clearly lost on Rick. The guy just gave an unamused snort, and turned to walking away.

“Well he’s quite the conversationalist,” Amy remarked as they watched him round the corner. Kieren gave her a sideways glance, and then a smile.

“He could have been worse.”

“Yeah, we’ve got plenty to chase up, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.” Amy paused, shifting the items she was carrying. “So, lunch?”

Kieren checked his watch. “We’ve got time to go to the morgue.”

“Oh joy. Okay. I’ll go file this, meet you down there?”

“Sure,” Kieren agreed. “And actually turn up this time? Please?”

He was grinning as he said it, and she stuck her tongue out in return, speeding up to walk a few paces ahead of him.

“I might…”

Kieren shook his head and let her go, knowing she’d meet him there. As her footfall faded, he decided to take a detour via the toilets, and turned to head to the nearest ones, close to the main entrance. Pushing the heavy door open, it was quickly apparent that someone was already in there, as he could hear the sound of retching coming from one of the cubicles. Pulling a face, Kieren crossed to the urinals, trying not to think too much about the sounds echoing in the tiled room. It was nearly impossible, though, and as he washed his hands, he called out.

“You alright?”

There was no answer, so he shifted closer to the cubicle, drying his hands on the grainy paper towels provided as he moved.

“Hey, you okay in there?”

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks,” came the terse reply. Kieren hesitated, recognising the voice. He’d just spent the last hour talking to the guy.

Before he could move away, there came the sound of the toilet being flushed, and the door was unlocked, revealing a very sick looking Rick Macy.

“Can I get you anything?” Kieren offered, trying not to show what he thought of the guy's appearance. Rick shook his head, already walking away from where Kieren stood next to the cubicle, crossing to the sinks.

“I just need to go home.”

Kieren scrunched the used hand towel up into a tight ball, watching as Rick rinsed his mouth out and splashed water on his face. He felt like he should say something, but nothing came to mind. Rick was a suspect in a murder investigation, and yeah, hangovers sucked, but what else did you expect if you drank heavily? Kieren wasn't sure he should feel sorry for the guy.

Rick leant heavily on the basin, taking in his own reflection in the mirror, and after a moment his gaze shifted, latching onto Kieren.

“You sure I can’t get you anything?” Kieren asked again.

“No. Thanks.”

Kieren almost gave a flicker of a smile at the softly tagged on ‘thanks’. It seemed that Rick wasn’t capable of being impolite when someone offered him help – even when that someone was a detective who had just interviewed him as a suspect in a murder investigation.

“I have to go,” Kieren explained, crossing to the bin and dropping the towel in. “But get home safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rick echoed, looking down again.

Kieren hesitated for the briefest of moments, waiting to see if there was anything else Rick was going to say, or if he was going to change his mind, but the guy remained silent, so Kieren left, trying to work out what he thought of Rick. Everyone had the capacity for murder, and Rick was definitely a strong suspect at this point in time, but despite that, there was something Kieren had seen in the way Rick had looked at himself and then at Kieren in the mirror – something that had seemed to very young and vulnerable. Kieren didn’t know what to make of it.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. There were more tangible issues to contend with, and a whole new investigation to get underway. Walking deeper into the building, Kieren was already putting Rick from his mind – for now – as he focused on the next part of the investigation, and on what Lisa might have for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: the morgue.


	3. iii. Post Mortem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Slightly rushed. It's 4am. Oh well.
> 
> They go to the morgue, so there's a dead body, discussion of what happened to the victim, and mentions of alcohol. Plus other stuff, idk, I'm bad at including warnings.

It was probably just a trick his mind played on him, but Kieren was sure the corridor got colder as he approached the entrance to the morgue. The morgue itself was at the lower limits of a comfortable temperature, and as he pushed through the doors into the smaller room which acted as a reception of sorts, Kieren was met by the peculiar atmosphere he’d recognise absolutely anywhere, and shrugged off a shiver. The air was very definitely clinical, but there was an underlying aspect too, one tinged with death. While the place didn’t particularly bother Kieren, he certainly wouldn’t want to spend most of his time working there, as the two people working at the desk off to the side did. At his arrival, one of the two people looked up and then sprang to her feet, a grin on her remarkably pretty face. Emilio Santos, the greying pathologist who had worked with the police for the last twenty-something years, looked up briefly to see who it was, and then returned to his work.

“Kier!” Lisa exclaimed, approaching and giving him a hug. Despite wearing scrubs, the smell of the morgue hadn’t quite permeated the clothes she wore beneath them, and Kieren caught the lingering scent of fabric softener and the fruity shampoo Lisa used. She smelled nice, and for the umpteenth time he wondered how she did it.

After a moment, he was released, and returned the warm smile she gave him.

“So, how was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” he said happily.

“Lucky!”

“Why, did you have a busy one yesterday?”

Lisa pulled a face. “Understatement. We’re done with your guy, by the way.”

Kieren just nodded. As well as working as a trainee pathologist, Lisa also did shifts as a forensic medical examiner, in charge of the care of those in police custody. Kieren really didn’t envy her having to work yesterday after the Manchester derby, which invariably led to a lot of very drunk, often beaten up, men filling the cells.

“Shall we wait for Amy?” Lisa asked, crossing to the desk and pulling a file towards her, reading it.

“Yeah, she should be coming.”

“Shall I see to this one?” Lisa asked, addressing Emilio. The guy sat back, scratching the nape of his neck with his pen.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug, looking over at Kieren. “Is Kettering in today?”

“Uh, I think so?”

“I have to go to the lab, see if some results are in. If you see him, please tell him to come down and see me.”

“Right you are,” Kieren nodded, not mentioning that the building had a relatively reliable telephone system, and that Kettering had an email address too. Lisa, clearly still amused by her teacher’s choice of archaic messaging system, tried to hide a grin as Emilio shifted from behind the desk and left the room.

“Uhm, I should have the report finished by this afternoon,” she said, focusing back on work for a moment. “There’s a suspicious death we have to autopsy, but that’s it so far.”

“You taking lunch soon?”

“In another hour or so, I think. Paperwork.”

Kieren nodded at the excuse. “Amy and I were thinking of trying out that new burrito place. Was it on South Street?”

Lisa’s face lit up. “Ooh! Yes! It’s so good! I went there on Friday evening – terrible timing, I know – but it was incredible. You should try the shredded beef.”

“They do takeaways?”

“Yep, thank god. I think they do deliveries too, but if I find out they do I’ll never eat anything else for as long as I live.”

Kieren laughed at her exaggeration. “That good, huh? Would you like us to get you anything while we’re there?”

“No, I’m good ta,” Lisa dismissed. “I was thinking about going to-”

She cut off mid-sentence as the door to the morgue opened and Amy walked in.

“Amy!” Lisa greeted enthusiastically.

“Hey Lis. How’s it going?”

“Ugh, you wouldn’t believe what happened after you left yesterday.”

“Everything go to hell?”

“Wait, what?” Kieren cut in, confused. He usually knew when the two of them got together outside of work, as he often tagged along. “Where were you yesterday?”

Lisa looked at him, surprised, then at Amy, who was left looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. It took Kieren half a second to work it out.

“You came in to see Lisa while she was working?” he asked.

“Kinda…” Amy admitted. Kieren grinned.

“A certain custody officer wasn’t on duty, now, was he?”

He had her. The blush deepened, causing Kieren to grin even wider, and Lisa to lean into Amy, nudging her.

“He does look rather fetching in his uniform, doesn’t he?” she said in a conspiring tone. “I wonder what he looks like out if it…”

Amy became even more flustered, but couldn’t help smiling shyly. “Guys,” she whined, clearly wishing they’d drop it while simultaneously wanting to talk. Kieren decided to take pity on her and get on with his job – there was always lunch to revive the conversation.

“Okay, let’s get on with it then” he said, feeling the shift in atmosphere at his words. He addressed Lisa. “You got much for us?”

The three of them moved towards the inner doors, entering the main part of the morgue where the freezers containing bodies were. Lisa spoke as she walked, leading the way to the door that housed George Castle’s remains.

“Not a huge amount,” Lisa said. “We estimate time of death to be between nine and eleven last night. The deceased had been drinking heavily – there wasn’t much in his stomach besides alcohol. We’re waiting on the tox screen, which will tell us more, but a drink or two more and my guess is that he would have passed out.”

Kieren nodded, taking in what she was saying and matching it to what little he knew of last night’s events. The time of death was close to when Rick said the fight took place. As Lisa pulled George’s body from the freezer and unzipped the body bag, he waited for her to continue. She pointed at the wounds Kieren and Amy had seen when they’d arrived at the scene.

“Bruising to both the right- and left-hand side of the face, and to the ribs – five of which are fractured.”

Kieren nodded, his eyes running over the length of the body, looking for anything he might have missed, or that he wouldn’t have seen due to clothing and the positioning of the body at the scene. The bruising Lisa pointed out was unmissable against the pale skin, as were the incisions and stitches left by the autopsy.

“Someone hit him, hard, several times. Judging for the force of the blows, I’d lean towards kicks, but it’s possible that a strong guy could cause this kind of damage with his fists.”

It really wasn’t looking good for Rick Macy. Kieren recalled the guy's physique – tall, athletic but strongly built. He seemed capable of fracturing someone’s ribs.

“He doesn’t have the defensive injuries I’d expect, but he hit someone a few times himself.”

That part Kieren already knew.

“There’s also this…” Lisa said, her gloved hands pushing the body bag a little more out the way so she could show them the victim’s right palm. “It could be nothing – it’s so slight – but it looks like he put his hand out to brace himself, perhaps falling, perhaps stumbling against a wall… not sure.”

It was a tiny graze, barely more than a patch of reddened skin. Lisa turned the hand a little, with difficulty.

“Anything that could be useful for forensics?”

“We took samples, but I’m not too hopeful. The water did a good job of cleaning anything that might have been in the wound.”

“So, cause of death?” Amy asked.

“Well…” Lisa shifted, and Kieren moved back a step for her. Her hand brushed over the victim’s hair, parting it to show a wound, close to the back of his head, which was unlike the others. “He was hit pretty hard on the head – I’d say with a rock, or something similar – which caused a fracture of the skull and probably knocked him unconscious, or at least left him dazed. In the end, though, he drowned.”

“So he was alive when he went into the canal.”

“Yep.”

Kieren took a moment to try and process the brutal nature of the attack. The aggression needed to beat someone to the degree he could see in front of him, and then leave them to drown, was chilling. It made Kieren all the more determined to catch whoever did it, because an act like that couldn’t go unpunished, no matter what the victim might have done that might have provoked the attack.

“The blow to his head…” Kieren started. “Would it have been fatal anyway?”

“Where he was, and at that time of night, that intoxicated…? Unless someone found him in time, I wouldn’t fancy his chances.”

“And did the other injuries contribute in any way?”

Lisa regarded the corpse for a moment. “Any blow to the head carries the risk of concussion, and loss of consciousness. The ones on the right side of his face aren’t as severe as those on the left… But I suppose they could have done if he was unlucky. Unluckier.”

“And you think some of the blows could have been kicks?” Amy asked.

“Yeah, it’s hard to judge exactly, as the bruising isn’t clear. It would be nice to see a definite imprint, but they were forceful blunt blows, and definitely not made by whatever was used to hit the victim on the back of the head.”

Amy nodded, looking at the victim’s body as she did. “Whatever it was, it probably went in the drink. We didn’t find anything by the canal.”

“Well you never know,” Lisa said encouragingly.

“Anything else?” Kieren asked as Lisa moved to recover the body.

“Nope, that’s pretty much everything. I’ll get the report up to you today.”

“Thanks, Lis.”

“Hey, no worries,” Lisa replied, a little more cheerily as she pushed the body back into the freezer and closed the door. “Ya know, Emilio let me take the lead on this one.”

Kieren and Amy followed her back towards the smaller room, and Kieren gave a supportive smile, pleased for his friend. Amy beat him to speaking, though.

“Really? That’s awesome! How long before he’ll let you do one completely on your own?”

“Hm, not sure,” Lisa mused, binning her surgical gloves. “Small steps. I suppose he might give me a stabbing before I’m allowed to do a suspicious death, but who knows. Sooner rather than later, I hope.”

“You’re one of the few people who would wish for a stabbing,” Kieren joked, glancing at the clock above the door. “Anyway, if that's all for now, I think that’s lunch time for us. You sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m sure,” Lisa reaffirmed. “Really. Go enjoy. You’d better love it, though, or we’re not talking ever again.”

“The burrito place?” Amy asked, having missed out on the conversation earlier.

“The burrito place.” Kieren confirmed. “See you in a bit, Lis.”

“Let me know what time you’re finished,” Amy added.

“Will do!” Lisa promised, giving them both a smile before she turned to the desk. Kieren and Amy made their way out, and Kieren was glad to leave the strange atmosphere of the morgue behind him.

"Well that gives us a few things to go on," Kieren remarked. "We can go back over the scene, make sure we didn't miss anything; pull all the CCTV we can get..."

“Shall we go see if Matt and Erin turned up any leads with the girlfriend?” Amy suggested. Kieren nodded, understanding her desire to find a distraction before lunch and put distance between the morgue and the consumption of food.

“Yeah, good shout. I wonder what she had to say. Didn’t Rick Macy say she was there at the pub, and saw the fight?”

“Pretty sure he did,” Amy nodded. “I didn’t really get a chance to talk to her though.”

“You saw her?” Kieren asked, surprised.

“Oh, yeah. I went to the loo after I dropped the stuff off upstairs. Girl was hungover as anything. That or taking her boyfriend’s death really badly. Or both. Had to go get her some water.”

“Huh,” he remarked. “I bumped into Macy pretty much the same way. Although I’m pretty sure he was just hungover.”

“He looked it,” Amy nodded. “Must have been one hell of a night. Sometimes I wonder what I’m missing out on by not being a football fan.”

“But then you see the carnage, and realise.” Kieren finished for her.

“Pretty much.”

Kieren gave an understanding smile as they reached the door to the stairwell, feeling sympathetic toward those who, like him, didn’t understand football at all, yet found themselves in a city world renowned for it.

“After you,” he insisted, holding the door. Amy gave a grin, stepping through and waiting for Kieren to draw level before her gaze flickered to the stairs – making sure no one was using them – and then back to Kieren.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Three…

“Two…” he filled in, tensing for a sprint, everything work-related pushed from his mind.

“One…” Amy said, just as ready.

“GO!” “GO!”

* * *

 

It took Rick far longer than he would have liked to get home, and by the time he reached his flat and closed the door firmly behind himself, he was desperate for a shower. His clothes were too close, and every movement made him more and more aware of the cloying smell of stale sweat and alcohol that clung to his body from last night. The acrid taste of bile still filled his mouth, and he needed to rinse it out with something stronger than water.

Despite that, he walked away from the bathroom and into the kitchen. There was something more important he had to do first. A glance at the digital display on the oven told him that his dad should still be at work, but as he unlocked his mobile and flicked through his contacts, he scrolled past his mum’s number. For the first time in his life, there was something which took precedence over making sure she was okay.

Selecting the contact, Rick waited. The phone rung five times, before it was answered. Rick didn’t even wait for a greeting.

“We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, two grown-up professionals are racing each other up the stairs. All the way to the third floor.


End file.
